I’ve still never “accomplished” that (although I don’t really want to anymore). I began to wish I could make my mother cry with something I said, just as she had made me cry so many times – but I never did. So at that age I began to think things like “if my mother died, I wouldn’t go to her funeral”. I felt like my mother would be relieved if I died (just to be clear: although she said she should never have had kids, she never said she wished I was dead, which unfortunately makes her better than a lot of other resentful and regretful mothers… the feeling that my mother wouldn’t care if I died was something I came up with myself.
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I wanted to devalue her life the way she had devalued mine. The only thing I could do to cope with the pain was turn it back on my mother and finally reject her the way she had rejected me. The idea that my mother was anything less than loving to me was just dismissed straight off the bat by virtually anybody I talked to. I had no acknowledgement – if I tried to express my feelings to ANYBODY, not just my mother, I was treated like a stupid “spoiled brat” who wanted more than I deserved from my poor suffering mother. I had nowhere to go when I felt this pain.
![open gangnam style lyrics in english open gangnam style lyrics in english](https://i.ytimg.com/vi/NeLnqJGhq_Q/sddefault.jpg)
I could not deny the hatred and resentment in my mother’s actions toward me, in the vicious words she hissed at me when I did something wrong – condemning not only my actions but my very being. A few years before my parents finally separated. This is how I felt by the time I was about nine years old. I did end up developing a better bond with my father than my mother, but there were many many years when I resented and rejected him all the same.
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Hence my conception feels artificial – “fathered in haste and without sperm”. I could tell that there was something ingenuine and artificial about the “love” between my parents, and my mother made it pretty explicit that she chose my father as her partner for utilitarian reasons, because he seemed like a good father. Obviously I was given a name (and my name was chosen by my mother), but as a child I felt like nobody and nothing. Since I never came to see my mother as a “safe person”, as the ultimate source of comfort I could always come to, I had “no fold to hide in”. As I would later learn when studying anthropology, the most “traditional” human (and, more generally, primate) parenting style is one of constant contact between the mother and child, of breastfeeding on-demand… against that standard, I really do feel like a child raised with a tube in my throat, a child with no bond of birth (navel). No, I don’t think that having a C-section or not being able to breastfeed makes someone a “bad mother” – but in the broader context of the failed bond between me and my mother, both seem significant, like the first disappointments which snowballed into the broader disappointment I became in my mother’s eyes. Growing up, I heard a lot about how torturous my birth was, about the deadly rupture which occurred during the later (attempted natural) birth of my sister because of the scar my birth left. I was born of a difficult birth (C-section) that would cause my mother long-term injuries, and my mother got an infection in the hospital she was not able to breastfeed I have heard she was depressed in the early days of my life and others had to step in to give me nurturing. They prematurely throw away the idea that this is a just world, that they are safe from evil – hence the tears collected on a white hair and thrown away. They have to be able to take care of themselves in some way that goes beyond the abilities of a child. They do not get to be what a child should be. I basically share “Tochter”‘s interpretation of the first verses: an abused or neglected child is always old. I felt like a disease and a curse in her life and eventually I turned those feelings back onto her. I did not see her as a safe person, I did not see her as a source of comfort I had no other source of comfort to make up for this loss. From an early age I really felt regretted, and sometimes hated, by my mother. I was not sexually abused by my mother, but I was emotionally neglected and abused. Like “Tochter” I have spent a lot of time recently crying to this song. The man in the song seeks revenge against the mother that never gave birth to him, while at the same time expressing love for the same mother, exposing the duality in some mother-son relationships in which hate and love exist in parallel to each other. This song is about a man who never had a mother because he was born from an experiment. And after that i will sink it in the river